John Doe Nobody
by Corantien
Summary: "I'm just a John Doe Nobody. I'll never be worthy of you and you know it. That's why I'm leaving." "John! Why do you think I did all those things?"
1. Chapter 1

Hello! There will be no mentioning of suicide so you can see this as a post-Reichenbach fic in which the two most lovable men in the universe solved most of their issues or a fic during S1 or S2.

Sherlock is not mine, I'm just playing around with their characters. If I was their creator... You know what I would be doing with them ;-) Consider this a warning for possible (ain't no Johnlock party without the slash!) slash between Sherlock and John. If you're not into that, stop reading here and now!

Hi again to the people who'll take a chance on me :-D Enjoy and don't forget to review!

* * *

Sherlock was watching John out of the corner of his eye. Captain John Hamish Watson was at this very moment doing the ordinary task of preparing two cups of tea. And if both men would know what they were thinking about each other this whole tale of drama would have never taken place. But you know how men can be, and you know how people in love are so read on.

"Tea's ready, Sherlock." John called from the kitchen.

Sherlock did not react to this, he was too busy thinking about things. More specifically the good forementioned Captain.

John sighed loudly so his displeasure would surely be known by world's only consulting detective. Alas, he did not move from his spot and so John was forced to bring Sherlock his cup.

"Here's your cuppa."

No answer.

"A thank you would be nice..."

A huff.

"I'll take that as a: thank you very much, John." Sherlock almost never said thank you and John would take from him all the scraps Sherlock deemed worthy enough to throw his way.

"I'm off to work. Bye Sherlock!"

Silence.

* * *

"What to do Sherlock, what to do? Come on you're a genius. You can figure this one out."

Sherlock started talking to himself.

"Analyze your feelings."

Still not working. The genius stood up from the couch for the first time in two days and strode over to the mantelpiece to talk to the skull.

"Fact number one: I'm attracted to John. Fact number two: John is not gay. Third: I don't know how to make him like me the way I like him."

After an hour of thinking silently with his skull, he put his second best friend down again and started plucking some strings on his violin while walking the flat.

Still no solution.

"If all else fails... To the internet!" Sherlock thought.

After searching the web for a couple of hours Sherlock shuts down John's laptop after clearing the browser history. He made a mental list of various useful advice he read in several popular magazines online. John is an ordinary man, not so ordinary to Sherlock, but he still answered to most of the queries Sherlock read.

On his list were three points:

Make him notice you.

Show him your best side.

Make it absolutely clear you would be his perfect match.

Sherlock grinned to himself. If he followed these simple steps, he could make John like him too and Sherlock could go back to being bored or distracted by interesting things. He would be more concentrated AND more happy because of the shift in their relationship.

Yes, life would be even better at 221B when Sherlock completed his plan succesfully.

"Mrs. Hudson!"

* * *

John had an awful day at the clinic. Sarah still acted somewhat awkward with him and it made him feel guilty. Then he had the worst patient ever who started complaining about her husband and their sexlife. Something that reminded John of how lonely he sometimes felt en how long it had been since his last sexual 'encounter'.

During lunchtime his thoughts went back into the past.

_John felt suddenly extremely nervous and Angelo's hinting was NOT helping at all._

_"You don't have a girlfriend, then?" he asked._

_"Girlfriend? No, not really my area." Sherlock answered nonchalantly._

_John was surprised, would he dare hope? "Oh right then... Do you have a boyfriend? Which is fine, by the way."_

_"I know it's fine."_

_"So you've got a boyfriend?" _

_"Please say no, please say no." John repeated in his head._

_"No."_

_"Right, okay. You're unattached, just like me. Fine. Good." _

_"Let us subtly test the waters..." John thought, his heart beating madly._

_"John, um... I think you should know that I consider myself married to my work and while I am flattered by your interest I'm..."_

_He felt his hope shatter and his head warm-up. "No!" Maybe too forceful..._

_"...really not looking for anyone." Sherlock went on._

_"No. I'm not asking, no. I was just saying. It's all fine." _

_"Good. Thank you."_

_"Just keep your eyes on your plate, John and eat. Try to forget it. You're used to nobody having any interest in you." John blinked his eyes a couple of times furiously while thinking this. He would not give himself away. Sherlock was too perceptive._

"Doctor Watson?" Sarah asked through the dooropening.

"Euhm yes?" John shook himself awake, with some chagrin he noticed his eyes were teary. But he would not cry. Sherlock would not make him cry AGAIN.

"Ready for your next patient?"

John tries to keep his sigh as silent as possible. "Yeah sure."

His mobile phone beeped.

**Scotland Yard. Murder. Possibly not dangerous, nonetheless amusing.**

**SH**

**Be there in half an hour.**

**JW**

"Sarah? Cancel my next patient." John said while rushing out the door, passing an old startled lady with a cold.

"Let me guess. Sherlock?" Sarah answered with a bitter note in her voice.

"A case!" John yelled over his shoulder. His day was starting to look better.

* * *

**AT SCOTLAND YARD**

* * *

"Where's Sherlock?" John asked Lestrade.

"He left a couple of hours ago."

"But he just texted me to come here! Sherlock you're such an unbelievable..."

Before John could finish his sentence, Greg interrupted him. "Sherlock left instructions. I have to fill you in."

"Allright. Tell me."

"Male, 29 years, tattoo of a rainbowflag on his back, found with stabwounds in his kitchen. No trace of the murderer, his flat was cleaned out for any DNA and prints. Neighbours know of no partner."

"Okay..." John said slowly "So he's probably gay, stabwounds and in the kitchen...Maybe a crime of passion?"

Greg's eyebrows went up "Sherlock's rubbing off on you, that's what he immediately said."

John thought without meaning to "It's not the only thing I want Sherlock rubbing off on me. Down boy!" He started fidgeting a bit.

"Well, I start seeing resemblances with other cases. Did Sherlock say something else?"

"He told us to come help him arrest the murderer at the following address. I foresee some difficulties though."

'Why's that?"

"The pride parade is happening today at the same location.."

"I see. Well, let's get going shall we?"

"After you Doctor Watson." Lestrade said with a smile.

Oh Sherlock what are you going to do now?

* * *

Aren't we all wondering... Hit the review button!


	2. Chapter 2

Hundreds of people were yelling goodnaturedly and waving at people in the parade. Colourful men wearing G-strings waved back with flirty smiles, throwing flowers and candy. Loud music boomed out of giant speakers. The whole main street has gone mad.

"Where did he say he was?!" John yelled at Lestrade. Lestrade shrugged his shoulders and made a gesture at his team.

"Look around for Sherlock!" he commanded them. "Let's get to the side of the parade!" Greg shouted. John just nodded and together they wurmed them to the railings that kept the people from the street were the parade with the show cars rode.

"It's quite pretty isn't it?!" Lestrade tried to say to John over the loud music.

John yelled a 'YES' back while looking for Sherlock.

A parade car with lots and lots of colourful purple feathers slowly rolled towards them.

Donovan found her way to them.

"No sign of the freak, Sir!"

A popular song started playing* and people went wild while pointing at the parade car.

"Sherlock, where in God's name are you..?!" Lestrade started and then suddenly stilled.

"What?!" John asked when he took in Lestrade's and Donovan's surprised look, open mouth included.

He turned around and there... There on the big parade car stood Sherlock. Dressed in purple feather boa's, a sparkling costume with fake diamonds, a big hat and a long purple tail that shook with his movements.

"Is that..." John tried to say.

"Oh my God." Sally exclaimed.

There was Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes, world's only consulting detective. Dancing on top of parade car in a poofie costume dancing seductively.

"He's practically naked!" John thought furiously.

Sherlock's dancing made the crowd go wild, his back-up dancers moving in sync with him. His tail shaking with his ass.

When the parade car was at their height, Sherlock made a sharp move and knocked one of his dancers of the car into the crowd. John, Lestrade and Sally could jump out of the way in time. Sherlock dove after the dancer who tried to scramble up and run for his life.

Greg, following his police instinct and trust in Holmes, tackled the man.

"He's the one. He's the murderer." Sherlock said above the murmurs of the audience and loud music. People were watching but got distracted again by the ongoing parade.

"Anything you say can and will be used against you." Greg droned his lines to the suspect.

Silently they went to Scotland Yard. Sherlock got quite a few stares from the men and women there.

John was fuming in silence, not reacting to anything they said and never answering.

Sherlock was still waiting for the questions of 'Why?' and 'How?' from John and the compliments, but didn't come.

"What's in the name?" Anderson began.

"Oh do shut your mouth Anderson, your smelly breath is going to taint my feathers." And for good measure Sherlock fluffed his pretty feathers up.

"Jealous?" he asked with an eyebrow inquisitively up.

Anderson huffed and stormed off.

"Okay, Sherlock, explain." Lestrade asked.

"Victim is a dancer, he was the big act in a dance on a parade car in the gay parade. Got murdered by a slighted lover, one of the back-up dancers. The murder has not been in the news yet, so I was surprised, but not really, when an ad came up on the internet. Looking for a last-minute dancer. I volunteered and learned the steps in a couple of hours and then proceeded to find the ad-placer and subconsequently so, the murderer. Simple but amusing. Purple really is my colour."

"Yeah sure, Sherlock, you look very pretty." Lestrade said amused and watched Sherlock preen.

John was starting to tremble of anger and he snapped when he saw a passing group of females including one male eyeing Sherlock up and down in that ridiculously sexy outfit.

He stormed off without a word.

"John?" Sherlock asked after him.

SLAM!

"Well... Try to explain that?" Lestrade asked Sherlock.

When Sherlock's expression only showed baffling confusion, Sally laughed at him and Greg just shook his head disapprovingly.

* * *

"John?" knock knock

"John? I know you're in your room. I saw your shoes at the door and your coat on the rack. So I deduced... But you already know that. Don't you?"

* * *

**1 hour later**

* * *

"John? I've bought some Thai. It's been awhile. Hungry?"

Silence.

"I'll just leave it outside your door then."

* * *

**2 hours later**

* * *

"John, come quickly! I've experimented with acid and it's turning the kitchen table pink!"

"Jooooohn, you're missing it!"

* * *

**3 hours later**

* * *

Sherlock put the cold Thai food in the refrigerator, in the shelf under the new limb he just got this morning from the morgue to test biting patterns on it with false teeth.

"John, I'm putting food in the same place where my experiments are. Under a limb." he added.

* * *

**John? SH**

**Are you angry? SH**

**Don't you have to pee? SH**

**Come out, John. SH**

**I'm bored! SH**

**My foot is stuck in the sofe. Help me. SH**

**Sofa is on fire. SH**

**Never mind. Everything's under control. SH**

* * *

"John, are you sleeping? It's late? Don't you need the bathroom?

"John?"

Knock knock

"John?"

* * *

Loud violin screeches echoed through the flat. Probably waking up the whole neighbourhood

"Sherlock!" Mrs. Hudson screamed. He didn't stop, so she made her way upstairs.

"It's 2 o'clock in the morning. Whatever is the matter?" the old lady asked.

Her hair was in curlers with a cap over it.

"John, isn't answering my texts nor my questions. He's locked himself up in his room." Sherlock pouted.

"Oh dear. Have you boys had a fight?"

"NO!" A pause "Maybe, I don't know. Mrs. Hudson make John stop being angry."

"Alright Sherlock, I'll try." Mrs. Hudson went up to John's room.

"John dear? What's wrong?" she asked softly through the closed door.

"Hello, Mrs. Hudson. Nothing's wrong. Just leave me alone."

"Sherlock's worried."

"No, he's not. He only cares about himself."

"Why won't you come out for a cuppa, my boy? And then we can discuss this."

"No! Go tell Sherlock to leave me alone. I'll talk to him again when I'm ready."

"Alright..." Mrs. Hudson went downstairs were Sherlock was listening in at the bottom of the stairs.

"I've tried, Sherlock."

"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson. Good night now."

"Good night, Sherly."

* * *

"John?" Sherlock softly asked.

"I euhm, I made you a cup of tea."

No answer.

"Right. I'll just leave it here. Good night John."

* * *

John heard Sherlock leave and turned once more in his bed. He tossed all evening, but still couldn't sleep.

He replayed the events of the whole day.

Sherlock asking him to come over.

Sherlock's not there.

Sherlock's not realizing it could've been dangerous.

Sherlock dancing practically naked for hundreds of people.

Sherlock naked.

Jealousy.

Anger.

Lust.

Longing.

Loneliness.

Insecurity...

John stood up and walked to his tall mirror.

Reminiscing about Sherlock's perfect pale body. His cock gave a twitch. He looked at himself.

John Hamish Watson. Too short, round face, a little pudgy, a little poochie belly. John started undressing and looked his naked self over.

His body had seen better days.

Scars. Lots and lots of scars. Burn wounds from bombs. Permanent discolouring from extreme sun burns. A pudgy stomach. Most of his muscles detoriated. A great big ugly scar on his shoulder. The quick operation on the warm sand making the healing difficult and the scar tissue bigger than it should have be. It spread in a line to a part of his chest and a part of his back. A nerve had been hit and had to be removed. A little chunk out of the back part of his shoulder, making a hole in his back.

Little hands, little feet, short fingers. Nothing special about his genitals. Just ordinary.

Ordinary John.

Not a genius John.

How could he ever dream of gaining Sherlock's love interest. Sherlock's perfection and brilliant mind?

Since the war he slept with two girls, Sarah and what's her name again. Always in the dark. Always with most of his clothes on. Sarah once touched his little hole on the back and his erection had deflated immediately. Remembering the war. The scorching heat. The pain. The fear.

John Watson was a strong man, but this very evening he had hit his lowest point.

Tears dropped from his eyes and he was surprised to see them. Even being shot didn't make him cry. Only this. Only Sherlock could make him feel so high and stoop so low.

He covered himself up, disgusted by what he saw and crawled back into bed.

"I'm going to pretend nothing's changed, starting tomorrow." John said to himself.

But that's easier said than done...

* * *

* I imagine Sherlock dancing on the parade car during the song: A little party never killed nobody. I heard it first while listening to the soundtrack of the Great Gatsby (great book and great movie too)


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlock knew he had done something wrong, but he didn't dare to ask John. His dear John whose head was practically a thundercloud when he finally came out of his room. He still made Sherlock a cup of tea, so Sherlock supposed he wasn't that angry anymore.

When Lestrade called in for some help with the cold cases they were trying to clear up, Sherlock jumped up from the couch and yelled "Come on John, let's go to Scotland Yard."

"No, I'm not coming with you today." John answered sullenly.

Sherlock paused in the doorway midstep, blinking confused at his best and probably only friend.

"What? Why? Jooooohn." He whined "There will be something interesting today at the Yard, I can feel it."

"No."

"Suit yourself." Sherlock replied and dashed down the stairs. While taking a cab he got a text.

**Bring milk. JW**

"Alright, alright." Sherlock mumbled to himself.

* * *

John tried writing his blog, but he couldn't get one word out about yesterday. The case really wasn't that interesting and he did not want other people to think about Sherlock naked and dancing. Suddenly a little enveloppe starting glowing in the corner of his screen.

"A new mail?" John asked himself.

It was from Sally. She wrote: Watch the freak! And had sent it to almost a hundred people by judging all the names at the end of the mail.

John opened the attachments. All pictures of Sherlock. Made by cell phones, out of newspapers and even one movie of Sherlock appearing on top of the car, shaking his ass and jumping after a criminal.

John sighed and put his head in his hands.

Oh boy.

* * *

Molly couldn't get a word out when she saw Sherlock. Just stammering and blushing. Lestrade strode in with more cases when he noticed Sherlock's baffled look. Then he looked at the blubbering Molly.

"Right. Sherlock, Donovan mailed everyone evidence from your, euhm, act yesterday."

"What? Everyone?" Sherlock asked. He still did not understand why Molly behaved this way, but he knew that if John found out he would be mad again.

"Yeah, you're quite the new hottie in our department. They're contemplating of printing one of your pictures out and hang in the office." Greg snorted.

"Really?" Sherlock asked bewildered.

"Ye... Yes.. Sh.. Sherlock, you look quite pr.. Pretty on those pi pi pictures." Molly stottered and then blushed even more.

"Ah." Sherlock said. Now he understood. His plan to make John notice him as a potential and attractive mate has a backlash. He tried to show John he could be fun too, but not at the expense of their reputation. Perhaps he had miscalculated.

Sherlock sank deep into his thoughts. Shutting the two other occupants of the room out. How could he fix this?

* * *

**Dinner? SH**

John sighed when he read the text. Maybe they could talk? Dinner didn't sound too bad and John could try to tell Sherlock what's bothering him. Give it a week and the pictures and Sherlock's stunt would be forgotten. John was trying to think more optimistic.

**Ok. JW**

**Scotland Yard . Pick me up at 7? SH**

**Lovely. JW**

John hummed a bit. What could possible go wrong?

* * *

John hated himself the moment he set foot into the Yard. What could possibly go wrong? Everything apparantly!

Posters of sexy Sherlock were hanging on the wall. People pointing at it and laughing. Not in the way of laughing at Sherlock. Just amazed laughs because of Sherlock's new found sex-appeal.

"I wouldn't mind his bad character when he looked like that." one of the police women said. John overheard them make other remarks about Sherlock's perfect body.

He couldn't take it anymore. Sherlock was for his eyes only!

_"Oh John, can you hear yourself thinking, you're pathetic!"_

Right! John walked up to a poster and ripped it from the wall. People let out surprised and affronted gasps. He didn't care. John walked up to the other posters and did the same. He fumbled up the ripped up posters and threw them in a bin. The doctor turned and saw Sherlock in the dooropening to Lestrade's office watching him.

"John, is something wrong?" Sherlock started asking.

"Something wrong?" John saw a cup of tea, how ironically, standing on a desk. He took it and hurled it towards Sherlock's head. Sherlock, completely aghast, jumped out of the way.

Their audience, including Lestrade, just stood there. And watched.

"John! Please!" Sherlock yelled in shock.

John turned around and started throwing anything he found. Staplers, glasses, bottles, boxes...

"JOHN!" Sherlock shouted again while trying to avoid the flying objects.

"FUCK YOU SHERLOCK!"

Sherlock fell on his arse from the impact of a water bottle.

That's what took John to stop throwing things. He advanced on Sherlock and pulled him roughly up by the lapels of his coat.

"You're so stupid!" John yelled in the brunette's face.

"John, please stop being such a drama queen and explain..." Sherlock started.

"Explain?! Oh, I'll explain! I'm leaving you! Consider this my resignation as your coattailing puppy!"

"I knew there would come a time he couldn't deal with the freak anymore." Sally whispered.

"Shut up!" Sherlock and John said at the same time. Sally cowered back.

John looked at Sherlock and tried memorizing this sweet amazing face, those beautiful eyes for one last time. Then he dropped Sherlock back on the ground and turned to leave.

"LOOK OUT!" someone yelled.

John turned and saw Sherlock pointing a gun at him.

Everyone didn't dare to move. Was this the moment Sherlock finally has snapped?

"If you leave, I'll shoot. You owe me an explanation." Sherlock said calmly.

"An explanation? Fine. Do you have any idea of what you are?!"

Sherlock shrugged "A highly functioning sociopath, a freak. I'm Sherlock Holmes."

"And what am I?"

"You're John Watson..."

"You're wrong. Two times, you've been wrong. You are not a freak to me nor a sociopath. Maybe a little, and yes alright maybe weird. But do you know what you are to me?"

"A friend?"

"You're not just a friend! You're an insane intolerable and the most irritating man I've ever had the displeasure of encountering."

Total silence. Sherlock felt an incredible hurt overwhelm him.

"But... You're also extremely loyal, caring when you think no-one sees it, smart bordering on the crazy genius, as a matter in fact you are, witty, razorsharp sarcasm, the most beautiful perfect man I've ever seen. Good God! Your smell, your eyes.. Your musically raping your violin in the wee hours of the morning, your insults, you trying to be helpful, the fact you cannot make a decent cup of tea, the fact that you barely can take care of yourself. Everything off you just attracts me and it's driving me crazy. It's driving me crazy because I'll never have it. I'm just a John Doe Nobody. I'll never be worthy of you and you know it. That's why I'm leaving."

John felt a lone tear trickle down his cheek. And he turned again. Not caring if Sherlock did or did not shoot.

Everyone held their breath. What the fuck was happening?

John turned the door handle, shoulders slumping and feeling 20 years older.

"John!"

John froze up.

"Why do you think I did all those things?" Sherlock said.

"Say what?"

Sherlock dropped the gun and strode over to John, pushed him against the wall and...

Kissed him.


End file.
